When Chanita Chayaluk set out to open Taan, her Chicago-based restaurant and wine bar, she did so with a clear and ambitious mission: to showcase Thai cuisine in a different light and challenge the long-standing culinary stereotypes that have dominated the American dining landscape for decades. Pointing out that the primary wave of Thai immigration to Chicago occurred in the 1970s, Chayaluk noted that a substantial portion of the Thai food available in the city still feels heavily anchored to that era. When Taan officially opened its doors in September, its menu reflected this modern ethos, featuring intricate dishes like miang—a Northern Thai specialty prepared with fermented tea leaves—and a whole, deep-fried fish smothered in a savory-sweet fish-sauce caramel.
However, as Chayaluk and her team quickly discovered, operating a contemporary dining establishment in the Midwest comes with its own unique set of cultural hurdles. Chief among them is the pervasive local ethos of "Midwest nice," a social framework that often compels businesses to overaccommodate and bend over backward to appease the masses. In Taan’s early days of service, the kitchen was inundated with frequent requests from guests asking for ingredient substitutions or specialized accommodations driven by personal preferences and dietary restrictions.
According to Chayaluk, these constant modifications began to take a heavy toll. They slowed down kitchen operations and service speed, negatively impacting not just the back-of-house workflow, but the overall guest experience as well. Operating with a compact kitchen and a lean staff made it extraordinarily difficult to keep up with the bespoke demands. It reached a point where Chayaluk felt as though her fine-dining concept was operating like a fast-casual assembly line. The ultimate breaking point arrived when a customer placed an order for green curry mussels, but requested the dish "without the mussels."
Faced with the erosion of culinary integrity, Chayaluk implemented a strict, limited substitution policy at Taan. She took to Instagram to clearly outline the boundaries, explaining to the public that foundational ingredients such as fish sauce and shrimp paste form the very fabric that defines Thai cuisine. Consequently, these essential elements could not and would not be removed from any dishes that inherently rely on them to achieve their authentic flavor profiles.
This friction between diner customization and culinary authenticity is not isolated to Chicago, nor is it entirely new. Approximately a decade ago, the culture of menu substitution was generally frowned upon and widely derided by culinary professionals and food critics alike as bad dining etiquette. In recent months, however, restaurant operators across the country report that substitution culture has bubbled back up into the mainstream, and this time it is arriving in full force.
A complex swirl of cultural and economic factors has driven the industry to this juncture. The proliferation of lunch slop-bowl spots and fast-casual assembly concepts has primed modern consumers to expect a granular, highly detailed level of customization with every single food order they place. Meanwhile, the mainstreaming of philosophies like those found in Will Guidara’s book Unreasonable Hospitality has intensified the traditional "customer is always right" mentality, sometimes to unsustainable degrees.
Add to this mix the explosive rise of food influencers entering the review space, where a restaurant choosing not to honor a specific dietary preference or modification request can instantly spark criticism and trigger a viral online takedown. Couple all of these social pressures with the stark economic reality that it is exceptionally difficult to keep an independent restaurant afloat in the current financial climate, and it becomes easy to see why numerous operators have chosen to give in. Some restaurants yield directly to specific custom demands, while others drastically alter their menus altogether—a trend reflected in what some observers have dubbed the great de-spicification of modern restaurant menus.
Yet, even as industry pressures mount, a defiant counter-movement is taking shape. Independent establishments like Taan in Chicago and Ha’s Snack Bar in New York—which proudly announces in its Instagram bio that everything on its menu contains fish sauce—are firmly standing their ground in defense of their culinary heritage.
A similar narrative is unfolding in Phoenix, Arizona, at Lom Wong, where chef and co-owner Alex Martin and chef Yotaka “Sunny” Martin have experienced a sharp uptick in modification requests following a wave of national acclaim. Last year, Chef Sunny Martin received prestigious recognition from the James Beard Foundation, and in August, the restaurant was honored with a Michelin Bib Gourmand designation.
According to Alex Martin, the influx of accolades brought a new demographic of diners who were unfamiliar with the restaurant’s operational style. Following the awards, the restaurant hosted more guests who were prone to picking dishes apart, asking for modifications, or expressing confusion over why Lom Wong did not course its meal service in a traditional European fashion.
Alex Martin noted that there is a deeply ingrained European distinction of what an award-winning restaurant is supposed to look like, leading many diners to erroneously equate Michelin and James Beard recognition with a formal, white-tablecloth dining experience. The co-owners quickly made it clear that such a formal model was never who they were, and never what Lom Wong would become.
Like Chayaluk at Taan, the team at Lom Wong turned to social media to set clear expectations for their clientele. They published statements clarifying that the restaurant would not make substitutions simply to make a dish more familiar to Western palates, and that certain characteristics—such as beef containing gristle or fish being served whole—were intentional choices that aligned with authentic preparation methods.
Alex Martin emphasized that Chef Sunny serves as the guiding light of cultural context for the kitchen, constantly evaluating whether altering a particular component would compromise the integrity of the dish. While Lom Wong permits minor adjustments—such as ordering a mango salad with the shrimp served on the side—they maintain a firm boundary against removing core elements like beef or shrimp paste from recipes that necessitate them.
Chayaluk has adopted a similarly thoughtful compromise at Taan. To accommodate diners with genuine dietary restrictions without altering the core menu, the restaurant consistently offers a dedicated vegan, gluten-free option—currently featuring a specialized fried rice. Chayaluk describes this dish as a catchall for patrons who cannot consume other menu items, noting that the kitchen takes great care to ensure the dish is exceptionally flavorful and substantial rather than treated as a mere afterthought or appetizer.
Behind these policies is a shared philosophy among operators: staff members at both Taan and Lom Wong are actively encouraged and empowered by management to uphold these boundaries. Both Chayaluk and Martin emphasize that these rules are put in place just as much to protect their staff’s peace of mind and mental well-being as they are to ensure rigorous quality control for the guests.
While enforcing these limits has occasionally generated minor backlash, the proactive approach of setting expectations at the very start of the meal—and well before arrival through social media transparency—has been overwhelmingly well-received by the dining public.
Explaining the policy to guests is approached with empathy and clarity, framing the boundaries not as an affront to the customer, but as a celebration of culinary identity. As Alex Martin describes the conversation with diners, the staff kindly explains that while the restaurant deeply respects individual preferences, those preferences ultimately belong to the guest alone, gently steering them toward alternative menu items that naturally align with their dietary needs.
